


Stained

by jesileigh



Category: Arrow (TV 2012)
Genre: Angst, Anxiety, Depression, Gen, Hurt, Hurt/Comfort, PTSD, Panic Attacks, Trauma, William POV, season 5
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-03-18
Updated: 2017-03-18
Packaged: 2018-10-07 01:25:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,051
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10349313
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jesileigh/pseuds/jesileigh
Summary: The scene replays in his mind every time he closes his eyes for more than a second. That man in the horrible mask and robes. His voice didn’t even sound real--more like the bad guys in the superhero movies he used to like. Movies he liked a whole lot less now that it seemed he was living in one. Even if he’d just found out his dad was a superhero with a bunch of superhero friends--the bad guys were real too. And they were a whole lot scarier in real life.





	

**Author's Note:**

> HUGE thanks for the beta-ing goes to Alejandra and Angela. You are amazing <3

It’s been nearly three weeks since he came to this place. It’s dark and kind of cold all the time, but there are people around at pretty much all hours of the day and night. It’s not really like a home, even though there’s a kitchen and a place to sit and watch tv. There’s even a room with some cots where they can sleep if they come back too late. They, meaning the people in masks who had saved him. There was the really huge one. There was the guy in the hockey mask, the really tall one and a girl who had a long stick and a scream that hurt his ears when she’d unleashed it on the guy who had taken him and hurt his mom.  
  
They’d swooped in and whisked him away just in time to save him, but they’d been just moments too late to help his mom. Then they had brought him here.  

It seems to be either overwhelmingly busy or dreadfully quiet. The team spends a lot of time in the workout room training or huddled around, talking in hushed voices on the raised platform in the middle of the room. There are a ton of computers and the bright screens offer some of the only light in the dark, dank underground hideaway. Thankfully there are also a lot of places to go when you want to be alone. And the adults all seem to understand his need for that, leaving him to his own devices for the most part. Unless they’re offering him something to eat. They do that a lot, like they don’t know what else to say to him and food is the only thing they can think of that might make him feel better. But like most things, food holds little interest to him lately, and he refuses more than he accepts.   
  
The scene replays in his mind every time he closes his eyes for more than a second. That man in the horrible mask and robes. His voice didn’t even sound real--more like the bad guys in the superhero movies he used to like. Movies he liked a whole lot less now that it seemed he was living in one. Even if he’d just found out his dad was a superhero with a bunch of superhero friends--the bad guys were real too. And they were a whole lot scarier in real life. 

There had been so much blood. It pooled in a sticky puddle on the floor at his feet, drenching his once-white high top sneakers. It splattered on the wall, all over his clothes, on his hands and his face where it dried and made his skin itch. The first thing they had done for him when they got to this... _lair_...was usher him to the showers to clean up, but it seems like it’s every night now that he wakes up and can still see it staining his fingers, like it won’t ever come off no matter what.   
  
He had tried so hard to help her. Tried to keep her from leaving him all alone. He’d cried and begged--pleaded with her to keep her eyes open. To fight it. To stay with him and keep him safe. She told him she loved him with her very last breath. That he’d always be her one and only. Her beautiful boy. She told him to be brave for her. To be strong and kind. He promised to try.

 

Now he lays in bed at night, closing his eyes tight and willing himself to burn her into his memory. The way she smelled, the sound of her voice, the way her arms felt around him. He’s terrified he might forget. That she’ll fade away into nothingness and he’ll have nothing of her left. 

 

The first night he had slept hard. Once the adrenaline wore off his body had shut down. Every night since, though, he hasn’t been able to sleep more than a few hours in one go. His whole world had been turned upside down and his nightmares refused to let him forget it. He wasn’t sure if he’d ever really get to sleep again.   
  
Like every other night since that one, he sits up in a panic, screaming. He claws at his arms and rubs his hands until they’re raw as he tries to cleanse them of her blood. He can feel the hot tears streaming down his face. He can taste them there as he sobs.   
  


“Mom! Mama no! Please don’t hurt her! Please!” he screams. It’s only a matter of seconds and she’s there, wrapping him up in her arms and holding him against her as tight as she can.    One of her hands cradles his head and the other makes circles on his back as she makes soothing noises to calm him. Her voice is so soft, so gentle, and soon his heart-wrenching sobs fade into hiccups and sniffles as she rocks him.

 

“You’re safe, you’re safe. It’s okay, sweet boy, you’re safe,” is her mantra. She whispers it against his head between the kisses she presses there. He hardly knows her, but he believes her when she promises she won’t let anyone hurt him again. It’s why his arms instinctively wrap around her middle and clutch at her like she’s his only anchor. 

  
She’s not his mom. It’s not even remotely the same and his heart aches with every thought  of his mother. They don’t smell the same. His mom had smelled of coconut and she smells like some kind of sweet flowers. Their hugs are different too--his mom was a bit softer and she’s got stronger arms. His mom’s hair was dark and straight but hers is curly and blonde--when she doesn’t have it up in a ponytail. And she talks way more than his mom ever did.   
  
Nevertheless he feels safe in her arms and he’s grateful for that.   
  
Her breathing slows and deepens and he mimics it without even realizing it. A calm washes over him and lulls him back to sleep. She makes no move to leave him, but instead relaxes, leaning against the wall and pressing her cheek to his head. He falls asleep moments later, his fingers still wrapped in her sweater. 

**Author's Note:**

> I have more ideas for snippets based around this idea. But I also have 5 other WIPs, so you know...stick around but be patient :)


End file.
